Don't Judge Me I Need These For My Sanity
by The Goth Detectiv
Summary: Dean has a part-time job at a cookie shop, and Castiel can't get over the cute but aloof cashier. Join me on this diabetes fest. Rated T for language.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Insomnia Cookies copyright Insomnia Cookies, LLC. They're a real thing go check them out.  
Destiel (le gasp) - bet you never saw that coming. For a friend on tumblr based on a fic prompt.  
Enjoy this really ridiculous thing I wrote okay great.

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"Welcome to Insomnia Cookies," Dean grumbled. He was seated behind the counter, his face ungracefully smooshed in a soft closed fist. Meg was grabbing stock from the back room, and was the first to actually notice a customer in the store; Dean was on autopilot this point in the night. All he could think about was when was the shift over and why on earth he had ever taken this job. Oh right, money. Crappy part-time job equals money equals gas for car and beer and pie and…. yeah that's about it. That sums it up right there. But this gig was tedious. He was over the college girls that frequented there, who were a waste of space and otherwise annoying. They were always giggling and either, a) taking selfies or b) not buying anything, or some deadly combination of those three and it weighed on his nerves greatly. When they did buy something, it was to flirt with Meg (there's a really good GSA at the school or something, Dean had no idea), him, for their own consumption, or another deadly combination. Usually, Dean being the guy that he is, would pounce on this opportunity. Work 'em up, keep them coming back for more…cookies. Obviously. What else would we be talking about. But the reason these girls didn't fly with Dean is because they were smart. Basically female Sam's and that was a no go. Naturally, Dean wasn't excited for the job to begin with and his energy was being drained slowly, day by day. Meg, the lovely yet snarky manager (don't know how she got promoted), usually did everything in her power to both keep herself entertained and torment Dean. She played it up and honestly if Leo doesn't get an Oscar this year it's because she did. A gaggle of girls comes in? Big smile, higher pitched voice than normal (Meg has a nice alto working for her, so she really tries here), gets excited about everything. And we are talking every single fucking thing under the goddamn sun. Meg always kept her A game and Dean stopped giving a fuck after the first week. Neither of them actually expected anyone to come within an hour of closing, so Meg was going to do a quick recovery then close up early. It was getting near finals. The store was either dead or mobbed; it could go either way. It caught her at a bit of a surprise when the door bell tinkled and there was a human body actually, physically, flesh meat and follicles, breathing and perspiring, in the store.  
And it wasn't a girl.

The first time Castiel had ever gone into the cookie shop near campus he was in and out without even buying anything. A group of girls from his psych class had been wanting to go and somehow he had been brought along. He didn't even know how he was friends with them, they just sort of absorbed him into their friend group. Now they sent snaps to each other during class and gathered at each other's dorm room for movie night and were all in an ongoing group message on Facebook that was pointless at this stage but no one dared delete. So when he finally got to go to this long foretold bakery, he wasn't even given a chance to experience it. All he caught was the guy working the cash register in a "never-gonna-get-fucked-at-this-rate" green apron, which didn't matter because whoever that guy was definitely had game, apron aside. Normally the apron was a deterrent, but in this case it brought up the sex appeal, at least a good forty percent, fifty even. Cas gave himself a good one or two bitch slaps in his head but the apron fucking brought out his eyes, wow Cas you're a tool, he thought to himself. A fucking tool, go home. The rest of the week was spent chatting about cute cash register guy. He was still playing his straight card hard, but he was sure the girls were giving him the benefit of the doubt on his orientation. He appreciated it greatly. By the time the next week had rolled around, each one of the girls had visited the cookie shop again, and the group collected to share what information they had gathered. Non-college, maybe has a two-year. Name is Dean, last name unknown; though a bit a Facebook stalking could solve that. And that was it. That was all they had. No one got a phone number, Castiel thought idly. Wait. Wait wait wait. None of them. Got. His. Number. Castiel perked up. His mind started racing. If they couldn't, then maybe…no stop it Cas, don't get your hopes up. It was a shot in the dark with a blindfold on with a miscalibrated rifle but damn it was something. He knew he was getting excited over nothing. He spent the rest of his day feeling gleeful and stupid as he picked out something nice to wear because dammit, he needed to nail the first impression.

It wasn't until he was half a block away before he had the thought, what if this guy is actually straight? Castiel stopped in his tracks and shuddered. What if you're just gonna walked right in there and look like a moron…what if he rejects you…what if he's homophobic or something…oh my god what are you doing Cas?! He started to panic, rather unattractively despite that gosh darn baby face of his. Clutching his messenger bag, he turned into a little nook of an alley and took a breath. Okay, we are calm, he thought. No backing out. Time to be confident.

"Welcome to Insomnia Cookies," a male voice said in a rather grouchy voice in spite of the pleasant face it came from. The pleasant face was rather tired looking, so in retrospect, can be warranted. And regardless of all of this, Castiel thought that cashier was adorable and hoped to dear god he wasn't blushing.

"Um, are you guys still open?"


	2. Chapter 2

Meg just stood there, holding a box, staring rather intently at Castiel. Not in a creepy way, but in a very intent sort of way. There was something about his face and that hair and the timbre of his voice. All of this was going on very intently in her head while she very intently looked at Castiel. He was beginning to feel uncomfortable and started regretting coming at all. The staff here was weird. Dean was just not bothering to pay any attention to any of this because, honestly, he still was struggling to give a fuck.

Whatever Dean, whatever.

"I'm gonna take that as a no then…"

"-It's Clarence, right?"

"Uh, actually, it's Cast-"

"We had freshman orientation and that lame transition course together," Meg said both excited and confidently, now that she remembered. She beamed triumphantly, box still in her arms. She glanced at Dean. "Take that, bitch."  
Dean rolled his eyes in a drastically immature manner. This had nothing to do with him anyways. And who was this kid even? Probably in here to buy cookies for his girlfriend… or boyfriend, you really can't tell nowadays. Whatever, this guy is a tool, Dean thought. Good ol' Dean, not having any manners and being judgmental as hell.

"It's good to see you again Clarence," Meg said with nod, setting the box down and going about her business.

Castiel was left fresh out of ideas. The hamster wheel in his head was at a standstill. Words, say words now.

"So, um… is there anything you can recommend?"

"Dean baby here is only fun when drunk. Other than that, the mascarpone marshmallow ones are pretty rad."

Dean groaned a very frustrated, pent-up noise. "That was one time," he whined in his manliest voice. "You can't hold that over my head forever."

"Au contraire, mon frère, I can do whatever I want. I own your ass, bitch baby. Now shut up and ring Clarence out, for Christ's sake."

Castiel had quietly went around the store looking for something to buy, so he could get the hell out of there. He felt rather unwelcome. Perhaps because everyone was tired, he thought. Yeah, that could be it. He found the mascarpone marshmallow more on accident than intent, and though the box was deplorably pink, he sucked it up because Meg said they were good. He stood nervously in front of the check-out counter. His hands felt restless as he set his purchase on the counter. He didn't know what this Dean guy's problem was, but he certainly wasn't friendly. It was so…off putting. Castiel paid and flew out of the store, feeling panicky. Definitely never going back there, he thought to himself. He walked quickly, making it to the corner and waited for the crosswalk signal to change. Castiel sighed deeply as if he had spent a great deal of time in thought. Fiddling with the box, he removed a cookie and took a bite.

"Fuck, these are good."

Meg set her chin in her hands, elbows on the counter, and gave Dean a long hard look.  
"So Deany boy, what did ya think?"  
Dean gave her a look that could better be explained with an emoji than with words. "What do I think what?"  
"Y'know, of Clarence."  
"That bookish kid that was just in here?"  
"That bookish kid with a _flawless face _and _hot ass_? Did you seriously fail to notice that?"  
No response.  
"Are you fuCKING KIDDING ME-"  
"Do you NEED to SHOUT?!" Dean snapped back. Meg snickered, knowing her work was done, and sauntered off to the back room. "We close in ten, bitch baby. Pack 'er up." Dean groaned, probably for the thousandth time that time. He didn't keep count, but it he had a dime for every time he groaned…he'd have a lot of dimes. He punched a few buttons, and as the cash drawer sprung open, set about counting its contents. Running the bills through his hands, he mentally counted…twenty…forty…forty-five… His eyes are really blue…forty- wait. He stopped his inner voice. I'm sorry, what? His memory brought him back to only minutes before. Castiel with his purchase at the counter. Dean had caught a glimpse of him when the other wasn't paying attention. His eyes were a strong, alarming blue. Easy to miss if you weren't looking at him, his eyes rather squinted for some reason. In any case, back to counting…forty…forty, fuck. Dean huffed. Gotta start over.


End file.
